The first creatures Tunde encountered as he stepped into the realm of tier 2 creatures were two Venomspike Scorpions, basking under a rare ray of sunlight that pierced through the forest canopy. Their stingers dripped with venom. Perched on the branch of a giant tree, Tunde crouched, surveying the area. There was no need to rush—he knew he could take them out with precise resonance attacks. But now that he understood his limit was ten resonances at most, Tunde realized he had to use them sparingly. Tier 2 creatures weren’t the mindless mobs of tier 1, and if he wanted to survive here without retreating, every move mattered.
The scorpions lay beside each other, the carcass of some hairy beast between them. Its insides had been drained away, leaving only a decaying husk buzzing with flies. The creatures seemed to be resting after their meal, their guards down—but their stingers were still raised, poised to strike at a moment's notice. One wrong move, and he’d be so bloated with venom that he’d probably be dead before he took two steps. The elders’ infuriating order—no weapons—still held, and while Tunde’s hand-to-hand combat skills had improved, he wasn’t eager to take on two scorpions with his bare hands.
After considering his options for a few seconds, he dropped silently into the foliage below, calculating his next move. With no better choice, he primed a resonance in his right hand and made his move, targeting the scorpion on the left. As predicted, its stinger shot toward him, but Tunde rolled out of the way, grabbing the stinger mid-strike. He unleashed the resonance, and the appendage exploded. The scorpion shrieked in agony. As Tunde rolled to a stop, the other scorpion was already on its feet, pincers snapping and its stinger ready.
With nine resonances left, Tunde darted backwards, narrowly dodging a spray of venom that sizzled as it ate through the grass. He tore across the landscape, diverting toward the injured scorpion. Closing the distance, he slammed his fist into the creature’s carapace, leaving a dent and aching his own hand. He was strong—stronger than most, even though he hadn’t followed the strength affinity—but the scorpion’s carapace was on another level.
Aware of the second scorpion coming up behind him, Tunde weaved between the wounded creature’s attacks, striking devastating blows to its armored face. He rolled away just as the second scorpion’s stinger crashed down where he had stood moments before.
The two scorpions collided, squabbling briefly as the healthy one grew infuriated. Its stinger shot forward, piercing the midsection of the dying scorpion’s face and pumping it full of venom. The wounded scorpion let out a wail before collapsing, its body spasming violently. Clearly, there was no kinship among these creatures.
As the surviving scorpion turned toward him, Tunde pulled out the carapace of the old scorpion he had killed back on tier 1. It was large, towering over most of his frame, and he held it like a shield. The scorpion blasted venom at him, but the carapace shed the liquid like water off oil. That explained why the creature had stabbed the fleshy part of its fellow.
With a shriek, the scorpion charged at him. Tunde ran to meet it, his disciple-ranked physique giving him the speed to dodge at a moment’s notice. The stinger smashed into the carapace shield, driving him to one knee. Grunting, he twisted aside, pushing the stinger away and cocking his fist. He brought it crashing down on the scorpion’s face. The creature shrieked in indignation, but Tunde was already channeling resonance into his hand again. With a swift strike, he sliced the stinger clean off. Grabbing the severed appendage, he drove it into the creature’s face, pumping it full of its own venom.
Panting, Tunde staggered backward and tossed the carapace shield into his void ring. The scorpion staggered as well before finally collapsing. Its companion was already dead, its black blood and venom pooling from the wound where it had been stabbed. The same fate now awaited this one.
Dropping to his knees, Tunde closed his eyes, taking deep breaths before opening them again. His void ring was still only half full, and as he pulled out jars of vitality-infused Ethra water, he drank deeply. He was already running low. The tier 2, disciple-ranked resources the elders had given him were far fewer than those for tier 1. He knew he would have to ration them carefully, which meant relying on the local wildlife.
The thought of eating scorpion meat—especially venom-infused scorpion meat—made him wince. But then an idea occurred to him, and he shuddered, realizing he was starting to think like the elder. Taking a blade, he infused it with Ethra and began cutting away the scorpions’ carapaces and pincers, tossing them and the cores into his void ring. Thorne had taught him not to be wasteful, and the thought of earning a few thousand lumens helped him push through his distaste.
As he worked, the thought of the revenant sobered him. What had happened to him? Had the clan locked him away and forgotten? And Elyria—was she alright? Despite everything, he felt a sense of longing, a kinship, even if they didn’t see him the same way. Especially Thorne. Now that he was a disciple, he could at least ask questions. That had to count for something, right?
He pushed the thoughts aside. Elyria had warned him repeatedly to keep the revenant out of his mind, just as Elder Joran had. If he wanted to help his friend, he needed to win the duel.
A few hours later, Tunde had finished skinning the carapaces. He had grown proficient at it. He began cutting away the venom-tinged parts of the meat, wondering whether it was wise to eat it. Still, a curious thought nagged at him.
What if?
With a pile of life-infused meat, fruits, and elixirs beside him, he prepared his experiment. He prayed to the hegemons that he wasn’t about to die a foolish death for it. Baelthor? Mekrandor? It didn’t matter; he owed no allegiance to any of them. Where had they been when his people died?
Lighting a fire, he placed the venom-laced meat on it, watching the sweet, sickly smell of cooking flesh and venom rise into the sky.
A few minutes later, after a series of loud growls that set him on edge, Tunde had the roasted scorpion meat on the ground before him. Thinking twice about his experiment, he quickly gathered everything into his void ring and moved deeper into the forest. The spot was too exposed, and if he wanted any chance of safety during this attempt, he needed a more secluded location. He knew, though, that any decent hideout in this forest would likely be home to a tier 2 creature, which meant he’d have to kill it to take its place.
His Ethra sight saved him from an instant death as a large flying creature flashed toward him, the buzz of its wings loud enough to grab his attention just in time. He rolled away, imbuing his body with Ethra as he hit the mud. Wiping it from his face, he realized he had fallen into the territory of large flying insects. As though he had disturbed an entire hive, the sound of hundreds of buzzing wings filled him with terror. Without thinking, he dived deeper into the mud, but not before one of them stung him.
Tunde’s entire body was on fire. The pain surged through him, as intense as the venom from the scorpions, if not worse. His limbs began to swell as his body struggled to break down the poison, his eyes watering from the agony. With shaking hands, he opened a healing elixir, swallowing it in one gulp. The buzzing grew louder, and in desperation, he rolled off a nearby ledge, tumbling down as he fought to make sense of his surroundings.
He came to a stop in a large hollow, water trickling down from overhead. He froze, shivering as the sound of the insects filled the air above him. They were searching for him, no doubt, but even through the haze of pain, Tunde knew better than to move. His vision dimmed, and his body convulsed as the venom continued to wreak havoc.
Eventually, the buzzing faded, and the insects flew away. Tunde winced, his body still wracked by the sting's effects. His Ethra fought the poison, but he understood now that his relic didn’t activate in response to external attacks unless he initiated the action. It was useless to him in this situation. Still, the venom coursing through his body provided the perfect condition for what he was planning. One part of him called it madness, while the other part just wanted it over with.
With trembling hands, he pulled the roasted scorpion meat from his void ring and bit into it, chewing as quickly as he could. He swallowed a large chunk, his heart pounding as he waited for the inevitable. When it came, the pain was so intense that it almost knocked him unconscious. A pure, searing lance of agony tore through his body, locking his throat and forcing silent tears from his eyes.
His body convulsed violently, but he forced himself to chug the jar of vitality-rich water he had prepared. He spasmed uncontrollably as the pain intensified, overwhelming him. This was what he had endured the first time he had encountered the scorpion’s venom—only now, he had the elixirs and water to help him survive. He had come to a grim realization: if he didn’t develop an immunity to the venom-laced creatures of this forest, they would eventually kill him.
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He hoped that whatever had tempered his body before could help him now. The idea had come to him, but the procedure—and its result—were still uncertain.
His head grew unbearably hot, his throat itched, and it felt as though a thousand burning rods pierced his skin. His body convulsed with such force that he could barely think, all sanity slipping away as he silently begged for death. He felt a foul-smelling substance begin to seep from his skin, coating him from head to toe in a trickle, then a stream, before gradually subsiding.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of torture, he took his first breath of relief. His weak body, still unresponsive to his commands, shuddered violently before everything went dark, and he drifted into unconsciousness.
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Thalas arrived in the tier 2 domain with disgust etched on his face. *What was the elder training?* What kind of being had torn through the tier 1 creatures like this? It wasn’t chaotic or reckless—there was a savage precision in the slaughter. The creatures had stood no chance, their remains plastered all over the area. Thalas doubted the clan would be able to repopulate the tier 1 zone any time soon. The only consolation was that tier 1 rifts rarely opened within the forest itself. Pausing at the sight of a dead fire pit, he shook his head.
The wastelander had been foolish enough to light a fire—and cook, from what Thalas could smell. Dropping to the ground, he examined the mutilated remains of not one but *two* Venomspike scorpions. As much as Thalas wanted to scoff at the wastelander, weakness wasn’t one of his faults. Bringing down two scorpions was no easy feat for any disciple.
Thalas produced his gauntlets, custom-forged by a clan artificer to augment his strength. The gauntlets, made from adept-ranked materials, slid over his hands as he scanned the area, knowing he was now in enemy territory. The wastelander could be watching him this very moment, and Thalas felt the urge to hunt him down. But he had a greater purpose here.
Soon, the tier 2 forest would be crawling with disciples all aiming for the rift. A new rift meant fresh resources, and Thalas intended to be the first to harvest as much as possible—cores included—from the strange beasts that roamed it. With the surge of beasts recently, rifts were becoming more frequent, popping up across the city of Jade Peak. Rumor had it that even their neighbors, the mountain sects, and Red Crown City, were dealing with the same. Everyone knew the first to a rift claimed a monopoly on resources, and Thalas hated the thought of a wastelander beating him to it.
The sudden buzzing of wings made him frown as he cycled his jade Ethra, his imbuement technique coating his skin with a light sheen of the crystal, turning him into a mobile wall of dark green. The sound came from a swarm of large flying insects with black and gold exoskeletons, their venomous stingers hanging menacingly from their bellies. Vespera Stingers, they were called. Their venom caused paralysis and hallucinations, but the real threat was that they ate their prey alive back at their hive. Thalas was prepared for them, though.
From his void ring, he summoned a burning cudgel, its flames fueled by a mobile Ethra storage within its frame. A disciple-ranked weapon, it had been one of his first commissions, gifted by his father upon his advancement to disciple rank a year ago. As the insects swarmed toward him, Thalas poured more Ethra into his imbuement, bracing himself. Suddenly, he was in their midst, swinging the cudgel like it weighed nothing, setting the insects ablaze before they could even touch him.
Charred, crispy Vespera bodies fell to the ground, their blackened exoskeletons cracked open. The survivors fled back toward their hive. Thalas dispersed both his imbuement and the cudgel, bending to pick up one of the roasted insects. He bit into its crispy frame, nodding in satisfaction. He missed the taste of Vespera. The trick was eating the parts untouched by venom—unless you wanted to spend a few hours in agony, depending on the strength of your body.
Something had drawn their attention. Curiosity piqued, Thalas moved toward the swamp, deviating from his route. Cudgel in hand again, flames burning brightly, he pushed past the hive, careful not to provoke the creatures further. Even the most dangerous beasts had limits before they lashed out in desperation. Stopping at a ledge, Thalas stared down at the torn robes floating on a pond, wincing as he glanced back at the massive hive. Its structure was teeming with movement.
The wastelander is dead. There was no doubt about it. The punctures in the torn robes suggested a horrific fate. Thalas almost wished he had arrived earlier to put the ranker out of his misery—perhaps even carry the body back to the elder as a sign of respect. His father would see it as a weakness, but Thalas viewed it differently. He was tired of the meddling and squabbles between the clan elders, especially when they roped in the younger generation.
Jumping down, he retrieved the torn strips of clothing. With a light hop, he made his way back toward the clearing, ignoring the faint buzzing from the hive. He prayed to the hegemons that the ranker had died swiftly. No one deserved to go that way—not even those who stood in the way of him becoming the youngest adept of his generation.
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Tunde woke with a jolt, the offensive smell hitting his nostrils first. He gagged repeatedly, pushing himself to a sitting position. Glancing down at his dirt- and grime-covered body, now slick with black liquid, he felt a wave of disgust—but he was fine. Taking a deep breath, he activated his Ethra sight. Small pools of green venom were being rapidly broken down by his system. His gamble had paid off, though Tunde shuddered, uncertain if he’d ever willingly endure such torture again.
The vitality water had been disciple-grade, enough to get the job done, along with the elixirs of life and healing. He was running low on both, but his supply of pills remained sufficient. Coughing, he spat out black phlegm before crawling out of the hole. He stumbled toward a small pond, using rough sand and water to scrub himself clean. His robes were beyond saving, and unfortunately, they had been his last pair, leaving him in nothing but his long fabric pants.
Finished, Tunde glanced up at the ledge, gathering his belongings into his void ring before leaping back up. He landed at the edge of the swamp, his gaze drawn to the large hive where insects buzzed in and out, paralyzed creatures clutched in their grasp—undoubtedly food for the colony.
He stood in silence, contemplating. He had seven resonances left, and while his body was healed, he couldn’t afford to waste them. Still, as usual, a reckless plan began to form in his mind. “Why do I always come up with these?” He spotted an insect carrying a small, furry creature. In one swift motion, he snapped the insect’s neck, its core falling to the ground just as the creature let out a shriek.
Wincing, Tunde saw several insects break off from the hive and fly toward him. Bracing for the pain, he fought them as they swarmed around him, their stingers piercing his skin. He gritted his teeth, enduring the venomous stings. Falling to the ground, he played dead, the insects hovering around him cautiously before lifting him into the air. Tunde allowed them to carry him toward the hive, just as they did with the prey they had captured before.
He cracked one eye open as they passed through the entrance, guarded by larger versions of the insects, which clicked in their strange language. The hive’s interior was a massive network of honeycomb cells. The insects carried him deeper, Tunde memorizing every detail—the cells where eggs were kept and the sludgy red liquid that he assumed was the remains of their prey, used to feed their young. Soon, they passed a massive comb, and Tunde laid eyes on their queen.
The queen was enormous, her bulbous head and grey body coiled as she continuously laid eggs. She was flanked by larger guards, though not as large as the queen herself. The insects carried Tunde past her, down into another chamber filled with spasming prey. Giant insects rended the creatures apart, their shredded remains carted off to feed the hive.
Once Tunde was deposited among the prey, he sprang into action. Whispering a quick apology to Elder Joran, he summoned a blade from his void ring, imbuing it with Ethra. The insects carrying him were sliced in two before they hit the ground. Without pausing, Tunde dashed forward, slashing through the meal preparers. They were tier 2 creatures, but they were dead before they could raise an alarm.
Panting softly, Tunde assessed the situation, knowing more of the hive could arrive at any moment. Cursing the lack of time to extract their cores, he set his plan in motion. Pulling out his stones, he lit a fire using one of the insect bodies as fuel, watching as the flames quickly spread. The insects’ bodies were highly flammable. He tossed another corpse onto the flames, then used their mandibles to spread the burning carcasses throughout the cell, wincing as the flames stung him.
The cell began to catch fire, and the first creature to breach the cell shrieked as Tunde slammed a fist into its face. He grabbed its stinger, tearing it off and jumping onto the insect’s back as it wailed. Dragging the burning bodies behind him, Tunde tossed them into other parts of the hive. When one corpse passed through the liquid storage cell, it caused an explosion, the flammable liquid splashing across the hive and rapidly spreading fire.
By now, the hive was in chaos, alarms raised as hundreds of insects rushed to defend their home. But the flames spread too quickly, igniting their bodies on contact with the liquid. Tunde’s blade began to crack, worn down by the Ethra he had pushed into it. A few more insects fell before the blade shattered completely. Left with no choice, Tunde summoned the relic.
The relic melted into its midnight blade form, glowing with starry Ethra. It immediately began siphoning his Ethra at a rapid pace, but Tunde fought to control it, thankful when the drain finally slowed. Dropping off the dying insect, he rolled to a stop on the hive’s floor. Racing through the burning corridors, Tunde cut down every insect that crossed his path, the relic blade absorbing their Ethra and feeding a fraction of it back to him.
If he wanted to gain more Ethra, he would need to revert the relic to its band form, its passive state. But now was not the time. He needed its lethal edge. Tearing through the hive, he headed toward the largest cell, where the queen resided. The hive was collapsing, flames consuming everything. He crashed through several larger guards, slicing off their stingers with precise strikes guided by his Ethra sight.
Finally, he reached the queen’s chamber. Standing at the entrance, he faced her five largest guardians. Their massive stingers gleamed as they took flight, eyes locked on him.